Review: Get On Up

City Paper grade: B-

Years from now, there’s a good chance we’ll talk about Chadwick Boseman’s James Brown the same way we discuss one of Robert Downey Jr.’s most memorable parts in passing: Hey, didn’t Iron Man play Charlie Chaplin one time? In other words, a meaty biographical role will eventually outgrow its vessel and stand alone as a feather-in-cap point in a superstar’s career. Boseman hasn’t reached the S-word echelon yet, but he has everything — looks, charisma, tangible talent — to indicate it will happen, his take on the Godfather of Soul transcending the strain surrounding it. Opening with the elderly Brown rushing his office with a shotgun, then leaping back decades to a harrowing plane ride over violent Vietnamese airspace, it’s clear early on that director Tate Taylor (The Help) has chosen to avoid the boring front-to-back storytelling that so often slows down biopics. The chronological hopscotch slides between Brown’s messed-up backwoods childhood, his ’50s origins, ’60s heyday and ’70s reinvention with ankle-shimmying style, keeping Boseman physically and creatively engaged. But there are still far too many clichéd music-movie contrivances — drugs, drama, infighting, Brown leaning on a sink in deep emotional pain (fave!) — for the flower to blossom fully. Taylor’s decision to have Boseman erratically turn to the camera as a half-invested narrator is a particularly bad choice that tamps down his star’s swagger.